


let the past roll off of my back

by notthebigspoon



Category: Inception (2010), Leverage
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eliot walks into the warehouse, guns are drawn by two men. One is impeccably dressed and the other is only describable as a rotund Hardison. Eames, on the other hand, looks entirely unsurprised and raises his glass. “Hello darling.”</p><p>Title taken from Warm Safe Place by Aaron Pritchett.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the past roll off of my back

**Author's Note:**

> AU after season 3 of Leverage.

When Eliot walks into the warehouse, guns are drawn by two men. One is impeccably dressed and the other is only describable as a rotund Hardison. Eames, on the other hand, looks entirely unsurprised and raises his glass. “Hello darling.”

The usual 'You know this guy? Who the hell is he? How did he find us?' follows in short order. Eames calmly answers that Eliot is the best in the world at retrieving what he wants and clearly that meant that Eliot wanted him. It's accompanied by a lecherous look that does little to disguise the concern in his eyes. His compatriots seem to buy it. The geek and a small woman laugh. Only the suave one remains unimpressed.

“Eliot Spencer, ladies.. well, lady, singular, and gents.” Eames announces grandly, unfolding himself from his chair and trudging up an iron staircase. Eliot silently follows after him. The only glance he spares for the other is a disdainful look at the guns.

At first, he feels like he came to the wrong place. He should have holed up somewhere quiet. He doesn't deserve human company or any sort of comfort, but he craves it. When Eames only pulls him close, without asking any questions, the dam bursts.

Eliot can't remember the last time that he cried. It's quiet, choked, but it's definitely more of a display than he's ever shown to anyone since he was ten and his grandpa died. His stepfather had given him a black eye for his trouble.

“Moreau, yes?” Eames asks, after Eliot has grown quiet and started staring at his boots. Eliot only nods.

Truth be told, he's not exactly proud of having put Moreau away. It means a lot of people are going to be safer and there's one less bad guy out there, and he knows that's good, but he's not proud and he's not happy.

“I'm suppose to be... Eames, this wasn't supposed to hurt. After everything I helped him do and everything he did, it shouldn't hurt that I put him away.”

Eames hums in a tone that says Eliot is full of it. “Don't lie to yourself. You were never any good at it, darling. You knew full well when your band of merry men gave chase that it was going to end up with one or both of you in jail or dead.”

“I always thought that it would be me.”

“Damien would never have let you die. He would have taken the bullet first. Did your crew know the truth about the two of you?” Eames asks, settling opposite of Eliot when he senses that his touches are no longer welcome.

“Nate knows I worked for him. Doesn't know how closely. Doesn't know that we were together.”

By now, he's relaxing a little. Eames always has that effect on him. It was the only thing Damien had ever liked about Eames other than how capable he was at taking things right from under people's noses without them ever noticing him. A perfect forger even before he'd been involved in dreamsharing. It was probably what made him the best.

He and Eames had always worked as a team then. Eliot was the muscle, not that Eames wasn't pretty damned muscled himself, and Eames had done the talking. Probably a more honest description for it would be interrogating. He can tell Eames is reliving their old partnership too, and when their eyes meet, Eames is a million miles from the jovial character he'd been downstairs.

Eliot wonders how long it took Eames to regain that part of himself. The handsome court jester, who found delight in everything he did and saw. When they had broken away from Moreau, Eliot himself had thought he wouldn't ever be able to pick up all the pieces.

“At least you've done some good in the world. More than I can say. And if you're going to answer, don't. Just don't. I tell myself often enough that we can't ever make up for what we did. I don't need to hear it from you too.”

They sit in silence, outstretched legs barely touching. Eliot doesn't know what to say or do. All he knows is that right now, he hates himself. He should be proud of himself for getting rid of one more bad guy but all he can concentrate on is the fact that he used to be in love with this last one. He swallows and stands up, flexing his hands into fists before shaking them out. He makes tracks for the door, stopping when there's a hand on his shoulder.

When he turns, Eames presses their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss and strokes Eliot's hair. “We could use you. You and me, together again. We could be amazing.”

“I don't belong here.”

“You don't think you belong anywhere.”

In spite of it all, Eliot smiles and kisses the corner of Eames's mouth. He walks down the staircase without another word, nods at the crew. The suave one is looking at Eliot as if he very much wishes he could shoot him. Eliot keeps his head down and walks out to his car. He drives away without looking back.


End file.
